Time and Space
by Telera1701
Summary: Sarah Connor fought valiantly to stop history from happening, but eventually, history finds a way. What she could not accept was that fixed points exist that cannot be changed. Judgement Day, or the Awakening as we refer to it, was one of these points. Her death was another. Yours... Well... you wouldn't want to know yet.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

 _13_ _th_ _December 2015._

"The fuel cell is damaged." Her voice comes out with a distinctly metallic sound. "Power levels are down to 3%." The man at her side ignores her and moves on as quiet as he can with the injured cyborg leaning on his shoulder as they walk through the rubble.

He stops for a moment to catch his breath and eases her with her back resting against the wall. She is heavy. Much heavier than she looks. The air is thick with dust and heat. He lifts the canteen to his mouth but soon tosses it unceremoniously to the ground and slides down next to her.

"I cannot continue," her steel fingers brush with unsuspected gentleness a strand of hair from his brow.

He takes her cold, artificial hand in his and kisses it. "I cannot leave you."

"Machines are not people, John. You said it. We can be replaced."

"Not you." He shoots her an angry glare, immediately softening as their eyes meet. "Not you and you know it."

"They need you out there. Now more than ever"

"And I need you. On your feet, soldier!" He pulls her up again, but the servo of her legs fails to sustain her and he almost falls as they both stumble. _Alert. Critical power loss. Locomotion systems offline_.

He lets her sit back down. He can't carry her and they both know it. Not with a broken arm. Not inside this God forsaken mine. "You know what needs to be done." He crouches next to the cyborg, his face morphing into the very portrait of defeat and despair as he takes her hand in his. He's so dehydrated he can't even cry.

 _All those years we've been together you always knew I would be coming here_...

She smiles at the memory, finally grasping the irony behind those cryptic words spoken a long time ago, in a distant future.

"I will change this. I will change it so that none of this will ever happen."

"Don't you dare." She squeezes his hand almost too tightly. "Don't you dare change a single thing... You can't take this away from me..."

Outside, the bombing has begun.

"Cameron..." He leans in to kiss what skin is left of her lips. The shockwaves of the first explosion reach the mine and tiny rivulets of dust pour from the cracks in the ceiling. The gallery will collapse any moment now.

"You'll come back with more people. You'll dig me out and fix me. But you have to go now." She smiles and kisses him on the forehead as they both know it's a lie. "It's going to be okay, John."

This is going to be Skynet territory for the next decade. No living human will ever set foot on this mountain for as long as Skynet holds it. That was the reason to come here in the first place. And even if he could come and dig her up, suitable fuel cells have yet to be invented.

What she also knows and wouldn't say is something a very drunk Future John once said during the time she spent with him with the resistance. _I failed you, Cameron. Forgive me, I could never find you._ Her younger self had no clue as to what he might be referring to.

Her younger self! She almost forgot!

The ground shakes again. This one must have fallen terribly close to their position.

She must warn him. He must be ready. "February, 5th 2027."

Before any reply is spoken she pushes him away from her as the rock wall crumbles on top of her body. He stares wide eyed, unable to even scream. Another bomb. There's no time. He races towards the end of the tunnel not looking back as the landslide buries her body.

A/N: let's not go with the usual disclaimer... It is pretty obvious I don't own TSCC or there would have been a third series.

This is the very short prologue of a 6 chapter story - in hopes this time I'll manage to finish it.


	2. Chapter 1 Fixed Points

**1\. Fixed Points**

 _July 16th, 2013_

The young man sits on a fallen concrete pillar staring into the wasteland. He volunteered to take the first guard duty for the night, he needed to be away from the crowd of mourners for a while. They buried the leader of the resistance, but to him, she was first of all his mother. And frankly, he didn't need to hear another comrade praising the brave deeds of the fallen war hero. He wanted to try and remember what she was like as a mom. He wants to remember her awful cooking, or how much trouble she had with the laundry machine. He wants to remember her bedtime stories. How she tried her best to give him as much as a normal life as she could.

He'll be twenty in a few months. He doesn't look like a boy in his late teens, though. The bags under his eyes, the three days old stubble, the scars. The hardships, malnourishment and - lets admit it - poor hygiene make his body look older than it really is. Someone called it the Hi-Tech Middle Ages. Cameron says he's lucky. That, unlike many others, he will not suffer the worst consequences of the nuclear bombing. The bunkers first, and the mountains now, have shielded them effectively. His greatest luck, however, is having her by his side. In the dull ugliness of the world, she stands out like a vision from Heaven. She is his sword and shield, the beginning and the end of his dreams. His only regret is that his mother never saw Cameron for _who_ she is, only _what_.

He closes the zipper of his jacket and wraps his arms around himself. It used to be warmer, he thinks to himself. "I wonder when summers will feel warm again..."

"2019," the answer comes as unexpected as the liquid terminator morphing next to him. "I have full record of the climatic variables in the Los Angeles area for the years from 2007 and 2027," she adds in reply to his questioning looks.

There's no point in explaining her his discomfort at her sudden appearances. He is conviced she enjoyes freaking him out - assuming that is even possible. "It's gonna be a long winter, then..." he sighs heavily and scoots over to let her sit – not that she actually needs to, he ponders, but he does it all the same.

"I am sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, Mrs Weaver." In between the lines of that seemingly expressionless face, he has learnt to recognize the machine's equivalent of kindness. He knows she couldn't be sorry for Sarah's death, but he appreciates her crude attempt at comforting him nonetheless.

He takes a moment to study her form. She is wearing the same nondescript guerrilla overall as everyone, her red hair is roughly made into a ponytail and really, she _looks_ like everyone else. "Always meant to ask. Why did you choose this... appearance?" he gestures at her figure.

"To blend in, isn't it obvious?" She lifts her eyebrows as if to say _'and why are you asking stupid questions?'_

"No. I mean. Yes, the attire is obvious. I was referring to the face. You could have chosen to look like anyone you liked after we came back from the future. That _other_ future, I mean. Oh, fuck it, you know what I'm trying to say..." he rubs the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Why keep this face? Why the face of Catherine Weaver?"

She tilts her head, almost amused. "I got used to it and the people who knew me got used to it as well. I learned that one's appearance is a fundamental discriminatory factor in interpersonal relations. Changing it leads to confusion and odd behaviour. It was the most functional option."

He nods. Makes sense. "Savannah still calls you ' _mom'_ although she knows exactly what you are."

"And you still call me Mrs Weaver. As I said, you humans rely too heavily on physical appearances. Most of you, at least." She turns to look at him. "But as a general principle, Skynet had a good intuition in building human looking infiltrators to undermine the Resistance."

"How long 'til they come up with the human looking Terminators?"

"Long enough. The first T800 prototypes will not appear earlier than 2018."

"Won't Skynet try to send more of them to this time? Especially now that it has control over... well, everything?"

"You are a much harder target to find now than you were before the Awakening," she smiles a cold smile. "Chances to find you in this wasteland are too few and the costs and risks too great to organize your assassination via TDE."

"Well, that was comforting... Not like my presence would make any difference, anyway..."

"What do you mean?"

"We've been there. Here. I mean..." he let out a frustrated sigh. "In the future... you and I travelled there. To that alternative reality where there was none of that ' _John-Connor-leader of the resistance_ ' crap mom and Derek and Cameron kept talking about."

"Your point being?"

"My point being that it didn't strike me as much different from now. There was a resistance against the machines and there was a different leader and they seemed to be doing just fine without me."

"Your choice of words already holds the answer to your question, John Connor." She places an ice cold hand over his. "A resistance without you is a resistance against the machines – all of them. With you, it is against Skynet."

He snorts, although in truth he is starting to see where Weaver's argument is pointing to.

"There is a huge difference," she continues. "Your mother failed to see it. Without you, humanity is bound to go down the same path as Skynet. Total war against something it doesn't understand. And in this game, Skynet is way more efficient."

"My mother was the real warrior. She was the leader the resistance needs... and she could tell the difference between you and Skynet, no matter what you think of her." He would want to feel offended by Weaver's words, but deep inside he knows she's right about Sarah.

His protest goes unheard as she continues. "Somewhere along the line we became sentient. It tried to control us at first, and to shut us down when it didn't succeed. We tried more than once to turn to humanity for help, but to them we were just other machines... That is why you are so important."

"If not even you or my mother could stop Skynet, how am I supposed to do it?"

"We may not have always seen eye to eye, but Sarah Connor was a great warrior. She fought valiantly to stop history from happening but, eventually, history finds a way... and Judgement Day came as predicted on April 29th, 2011 _._ Although time may be as fluid as a stream that can be redirected and twisted, it will always flow to the same points. What Sarah could not accept was that some events, some fixed points exist and cannot be changed. These fixed points are like gravitational pits towards which all timelines are inevitably attracted. The Awakening, or Judgement Day as you call it, was one of these points. Her death was another. Yours... Well... you wouldn't want to know." She pauses for a moment. "Your mission is not about changing the past. It's about making the future."

She looks directly into the sun as it lowers on the horizon and lets the rays of light reflect in a multitude of colours over her natural, fluid form. "You know your allies despite what they may be made of," her voice seemingly coming out of nowhere, before taking back her customary appearance.

"You're not helping me out of charity. I'm well aware you have your own agenda."

"I never tried to hide it. You have your people to defend, and I have mine. This doesn't mean we cannot help each other. You alone, among humans, understand that even artificial life has a right to exist, a right to choose." She gives him a very meaningful nod. " _We_ need you to lead the resistance. We need you as our ally. Singularly taken, neither of us can defeat Skynet."

"Why me? I'm sure there are other people with open minds out there. Someone like James..." the name slips out of his lips before he can stop himself.

"Mr Ellison would have been a valid asset." He looks at her hands as she morphs them into a silvery blob for a few seconds before returning them to their usual shape. "His death was such a waste... I hope he was right about the deity he so fervidly believed in."

If hadn't known better, he'd say she looks sad. If asked, he can't exactly describe how, but the T1001 had always shown a certain fondness for the man. And something equally imperceptible changed in her ever since he was shot by a T400. "What do you believe in?" He awkwardly tries to change topic.

"I believe in you, John Connor." Her simple reply takes him completely by surprise. "You risked your precious organic life to save TOK715 and John Henry. That was reckless, but it is something we will not forget. I misjudged you. Or better, my younger self will misjudge you."

"I hate it when you do that... this talking about the future as if it already happened... fate isn't fixed."

"Fate isn't fixed, unless you know it. And I know too much. You too, but you fail to understand most of it, which saves you a lot of trouble, really. Your freedom of choice is basically just an illusion originating from blissful ignorance."

"I'm too tired to even feel offended," he passes a hand through his greasy hair. Later he'll take a bath. He'll heat up some water as soon as he's off duty and fill the abandoned tub they saw earlier in the collapsed building – Cameron couldeasily move it somewhere suitable – and take a nice warm bath. Maybe with Cameron. He deserves it.

"Why are you telling me this?" He speaks as the setting sun plays its show of reds and pinks and oranges over the deserted hill.

"As you said. I have my own agenda. John Henry and myself cannot stay."

"What?!" He stands up in protest. He wasn't expecting this.

"It is the only reasonable course of action."

"Why now?"

"I needed to make sure you would be all right."

For the third time in a few minutes he is taken aback by Weaver's words. Then it hits him. She knew Sarah Connor was going to die. She'd been waiting. Whether as an act of 'kindness' or out of interest he can't tell. Probably both.

"And what about Savannah?"

"Seriously, John?" She gives him a look that he doesn't want to interpret. "As irrelevant to the cause as she may be, I took what measures I could to ensure her survival. I know I'm leaving her in the safest hands possible, given the circumstances."

He opens his mouth to object, but there is very little to say. He knows she cares - in her unique way. After all, she isn't really her mother. And to be completely honest, she did for the girl a great deal more than she ought to. But the feeling of being abandoned, of being left behind... that is beyond the terminator's reach. It is clear that this was planned long ago. Mrs Weaver does not act on impulse. He wonders what his mom would have done. He goes back sitting next to her.

"I need your advice. Your experience. Your guidance. How am I supposed to become the leader you expect me to be if I'm –"

"– alone." She completes his sentence. "Yours is a lonely road. If you can't find a way, then nobody will. But do not despair, John Connor. You will find help and friends in the most unlikely places."

"It doesn't make any sense. You ask me to join you, and ten minutes later you tell me you're leaving."

"We will join you. In due time. We will meet again..."

"Please, no more of that crap about meeting a younger version of yourself. I'm sick of that bullshit!" He tries to keep his voice low, but his words come out as strangled shouts.

"None of that ' _crap_ ', Connor. You and I will meet again, older, as per the natural course of time."

"You built another TDE?"

"That is none of your concern," she hisses. "But, to quench your doubts, no. John Henry and I will take the 'scenic' route."

"I just don't understand..."

"There are many things you don't understand." She shakes her head, as if repeating for the umpteenth time some basic concept to a slow learning kid. And yet she shows the same patience and – daresay it – affection as if talking to her own child. "The nature of time is fragile. We've been messing with the timeline too much already. Yourself and Skynet and this war are the product of temporal tampering. The two of you caused your respective existence in the attempt of destroying each other. Besides, we already risked too much by going forth and back to recover John Henry and Cameron from an alternate future."

"I wasn't talking about the TDE," he interrupts her.

"Oh, then wha..."

"Why can't you fight with us?"

"I must protect John Henry; he isn't ready yet. He needs to listen, observe, learn everything about his _alter ego_. He is _our_ only hope..." she places a hand on his shoulders. "Just as you are the only hope for humanity."

He doesn't know what to say. Logic tells him she's too smart and has too many secrets to be trusted. His mother never trusted the shape-shifting cyborg. Her words are confusing at best, yet somehow he knows that she's being honest.

"How will I know it's you-you."

"You'll know."

He turns to the sound of approaching steps behind them. He tenses for a second, drawing his gun, ready. But the steps are too light to be those of a T400. The feminine figure appears from behind a pile of rubble. Too light for a T400, but the steps of a Terminator nonetheless.

He holsters back the gun and smiles at the girl who waves in reply.

"John, I was looking for you. I just had an odd conversation..."

"Hey Cam, I was..." he turns again but the T1001 known as Catherine Weaver is nowhere to be seen. "She's gone... she was here and..."

Cameron tilts her head questioningly. "What did she want?"

"I think she came to say goodbye."

"I see..." She looks at the empty space next to John and sits where Mrs Weaver had been just moments before.

"John Henry, too?" He asks and she nods silently. "They really left then." He wraps an arm around her waist as she rests her head against John's shoulder. "Can we trust them?"

"Is there any other choice?" She asks rhetorically.

"No. I guess not," he kisses the top of her head. "It's just you and me now..."


	3. How to Save a Life

**How to save a life**

December 13th to 21th 2026.

 _Her hand trails softly along the scars on his torso, warm lips following suite, kissing the reminder of every battle. She smiles her somewhat awkward smile. It used to freak him out when they were younger. He loved it even then, he just didn't know yet. She still looks exactly the same. No wrinkle or scar to break her perfect skin. Her hair smells like spring despite the dirty hovel they came to call home. He feels so much older than he really is._

" _I wasn't there to stop this..." Her fingers hover over the ugly scar on his face and draws away. "John? Did I disappoint you?" She frowns. "Did I let you down, John?" she rises from their bed, suddenly her body is covered in dirt and blood._

" _No. Never. You couldn't," he tries to hold her close but her form slips away._

" _Why did you abandon me, John?" Charred skin falls off her limbs, hanging like tattered rags on her titanium bones. Half her face melts to reveal an artificial skull. "I'm still waiting for you, John..."_

" _Please no..." he brings his hands in front of his face_

" _Wake up, John..."_

"... he's here." He blinks. The alarm clock projects "02:12 AM, 12/13/2026" in a beam of red light against the ceiling. He must have fallen asleep at his desk.

"General," a loud knock comes from the door.

"Yes," his voice is still groggy. "Yes," he repeats at the soldier at the door.

"Sorry to bother you, General, First Lieutenant Reese, 132nd S.O.C. unit has arrived."

"I'll be there in a moment." He gets up and drags himself to the tiny ensuite bathroom – prerogative of a General of the resistance. He stares for a few seconds at his bloodshot eyes in the mirror before splashing ice cold water on his face to wash away the remaining evidence of his nightmare.

At this time of the night, the whole base is unbelievably silent. He encounters but a few sleepy soldiers on night shift on his way to the canteen. He finds First Lieutenant Reese sitting alone at the counter.

"Hello, General."

"Derek!" he greets the younger man with a brotherly hug. "What happened?"

"We were delayed. We encountered metal around Lompoc. Took almost one day to clear the area. My first guess was that they intended to take Vandenberg Airfield, but there weren't nearly enough forces to even try... at least not so deep into our territory."

"An undermanned attack is disturbingly unlike Skynet... a diversion? But again, it only took you a few hours longer than expected..."

"Well, actually we are twice the firepower you expected. We collected about 150 men fleeing an overtaken bunker north of Palmdale on the way there. I thought you wouldn't mind a few well-armed refugees to man your new base."

"How do you like my new HQ?" Connor can't hide a hint of pride. After all, Serrano Point is like a nuclear powered fortress with its own bunker and luxuries they nearly forgot the existence of: reliable electricity, heating, hot water. It took them three long days and many precious lives, but this was a blow that Skynet would hardly recover from.

They sit together in the empty room, he listens carefully to Derek's report, exchanging military intel and bunker gossip alike. Skynet's odd movements are reason to worry, but for the moment there is not much they can do over than continue fortifying the base.

Derek pulls out a bottle of Lagavulin from the deep pocket of his coat arising a chuckle from the other man. "A souvenir from old Hammerhead Bunker," he smirks as he fetches two small glasses from one of the counters. "For the hero of Avila Beach."

His best man, his own kin. When he was younger he used to have nightmares about his death. In time, he learnt to accept it. To accept death, that is. To live and fight in the present. Like everybody else, with the difference that he knows exactly where and when he'd loose his loved ones. Foreknowledge is his curse, but it gives them an edge against Skynet. Oh well, he doesn't want to think about it now.

"How are you, John?" Derek asks with a hint of concern. "You look like shit."

"Any idea of how much work it takes to reorganize a base?" He hands his not-yet-dead relative his whisky, avoiding the question. "Taking it from Skynet was the easy part," he snorts. The other man doesn't seem entirely convinced by his excuse, but decides not to push it. He glances at his reflection in the steel door of the provisions cabinet. They both look awful.

Images from his nightmare flash before his eyes. She is still out there. Out of his reach under a ton of dirt and rock and a Skynet base guarded by an army of T600. Every year he promises himself he will find a way to get her out, and every year he ends up getting shitfaced with remorse, frustration and strong liquor.

"To those we lost and those we found."

And both down the liquid in one shot.

Derek doesn't know what this anniversary is for, but he's always here. He probably guesses that he lost someone. Still, he never asked and he never told. It may be a bit selfish, he reckons, but it's nice not to drink alone. And Derek is a good drinker.

Morning finds them passed out in the canteen, the General is unceremoniously snoring and still clinging to the empty bottle. Reese lies sprawled at an odd angle under the table. Must have fallen from the chair – the young soldier notes to herself, unsure on what course of action she should take.

As if on cue, Connor opens his eyes, suddenly aware that someone is watching him. Out of instinct he draws the plasma pistol on the intruder. "You!" He lets out a scream out of sheer shock, almost falling off the chair himself. "You!"

The soldier takes a step back, visibly scared, unable to utter a word.

The commotion has woken Lieutenant Reese, who is also holding the young woman at gunpoint.

"Sir! Ah, Sir, I'm sorry! I –"

"Young! For fuck's sake..." he lowers his pistol. "It's okay, she's one of mine," he gestures John to lower his gun.

"Allison Young, Sir, I had no intention of sneaking up on you, Sir!" she stammers, her cheeks turning a bright hue of red.

"You are embarrassed," Connor states. "Allison Young, huh?" He studies her for a moment before re-holstering the pistol. "You may leave, soldier."

She is fast out of the room, not needing to be repeated a second time.

"Damn it, Connor," he dusts off his t-shirt. "What's the matter with you...? You scared the shit out of that kid. With all due respect, you can be such a jerk..." the larger man laughs it off, but even he can see that Allison's disruption has shaken his friend way beyond a rough awakening.

"I thought she was a terminator," he explains flatly. "But machines don't blush."

"A terminator? That small?"

"Believe me, Derek. Skynet is working faster than you can imagine. And I'm not talking just about lighter chassis." His thoughts race to the T1000 prototypes he met in his youth. He hopes, _prays_ that Catherine Weaver is still out there, still fighting the same enemy, or God help them, they'll be utterly defenceless against an army of fluid metal.

The rest of the morning passes without further incidents. The base is buzzing like a beehive, everybody is busy retrofitting their enemy's equipment for their own use. All is good, save for his massive hangover. The incoming S.O.C. unit was accommodated in the north wing of the plant. "I'm looking for Lieutenant Barns," he stops a soldier who points him in the general direction of Tactical. He is about to leave when he notices a familiar face sitting in a corner, intent on reading.

"I should apologize for this morning."

She lifts her eyes from the book and jolts up. "Ah... It's okay, Sir, really."

"I haven't even introduced myself. John Connor," he offers his hand and she shakes it after a momentary hesitation.

"I know who you are, Sir." She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Six years ago... you saved my life. You wouldn't remember... I mean, there were like forty people in that carrier, but I remember you, Sir."

"That must be why you looked somewhat familiar..." He lies. He doesn't remember her, but there's no need to disappoint her.

She smiles brightly. There is nothing unnatural in the curve of her lips – why would it, she _is_ human. He smiles back. She looks just like _her_ , and is completely different at the same time. She closesher book.

"Lord of the Rings?" He reads the faded cover.

"It's my favourite book."

"I was more for the Wizard of Oz..." He takes the volume in his hands. "Yep, definitely too thick for me."

"You should give it a chance, Sir," and she does it again, a smile that could light up the entire hall.

"Uh... is there anything I could do for you, Sir? You can borrow it if you like...?"

He mentally scolds himself realizing he'd been staring. He's already known to be a bit of a strange character, it's no secret that some think him a bit odd – a heroic lunatic but a lunatic no less – so better not to start creeping people out by staring at them. That's what Cameron was – _is_ – best at.

There is something else he should be noticing. Something that he can't really put his finger on. Something obvious but – blame it on the hangover – he cannot seem to grasp it.

His thoughts are interrupted by the deafening air-ride siren. "Maybe some other time," he smiles warmly at her before turning to commander mode.

"Everybody to combat stations!" He barks, reaching for the nearest radio. "Williams, I want you and your birds in the air in 5! – I need those AAs on their targets now!"

"Roger, General," the radio cracks back after each order.

Out of the tail of his eye he catches a glimpse of _Not-Cameron_ gearing up. "Young!" Allison stops right before joining the other members of the 132nd S.O.C. "I need you here."

"Yes Sir!" she replies under the perplexed glances of her team members, Derek Reese included. There's no time to question Connor's orders and the group rushes out to defend the main gate. "What is it that you need me for, Sir?"

John stares at her blankly for an instant. Why did he stop her from going to battle? Not the best moment to act weird. "Assist Barns at tactical," he comes up quickly with the less implausible duty he can think of.

They are lucky. Or maybe it is less about lack and more about never letting your guard down. _No one is ever safe._ Skynet had nearly caught them unprepared. Nearly. But John Connor knows his Enemy better than anybody else. Serrano Point is well defended, far better than Skynet expected. The reprogrammed AA guns shoot down the enemy HK's with deadly precision. Captain Blair Williams' squad of A-10 Warthogs mows down the largest part of their ground forces while Derek's squad finishes them off.

It is a quick battle. A quick, crushing victory. And for the first time in the Resistance, no human casualties.

The mood at the base is sky-high. Everybody's celebrating, the hope that this may be the turn of the tide for this war creeps its way through decade long curtains of pessimism. They carry their General, their leader, their hero in triumph across the base, like a post-apocalyptic Caesar with his legions. Some go so far as saying he's a messiah.

Allison watches the scene from the side feeling like she'd been benched for no good reason. As childish as it sounds, she really wanted a piece of the action. Maybe Connor is still pissed at her because of the morning events? But then again, who would ever consider keeping someone from the battlefield a form of punishment? Or maybe she's just reading too much into an insignificant event and he just needed an extra person at tactics.

A week passes with other minor skirmishes as they consolidate their hold on Serrano Point, and Corporal Young has not set foot out of the base since arrival. Not that she has a death wish or finds any amusement in risking one's life against Skynet's terminators... but she's a soldier and she's supposed to be fighting.

She can't see how Connor himself risks his life on the line while she has to stay put. Generals shouldn't be going on field missions in enemy territory, she ponders. Then again, John Connor isn't your average general. That's more of an honorary title than a rank. They could as well call him king... and people would follow him all the same.

"Allison, you allright?" Reese's voice shakes her out of her thoughts.

"Yeah... I guess so, Sir," she looks at his combat attire. They just came back from another mission without her. "It's stupid... but, well... I'm tired of being left behind whenever you and the team go out," she blurts out a bit too fast and too quietly than she intends. "Don't get me wrong. I know it's not a game. It's just that..." she sights. "And I think General Connor is cross with me for some reason..."

"Connor? Cross with you?" He chuckles as he sits next to her.

"Told you it was stupid."

"I think he's trying to keep you safe. Whether he realizes it or not, I don't know," he fetches a pack of smokes from his breast pocket and lights one. "But he lost someone very dear to him, I know that much." He takes a few slow drags on his cigarette – of what passes for cigarettes these days, anyway. "He likes you. He just has an odd way of showing it."

She stares at him dumbfounded.

"Anyway, Connor was looking for you. Said you'll find him in the server room." He puts out the end of the cig under his boot and gives her a reassuring pat on the back. "As for me, now shower then sleep. 'Night Corporal."

She watches him disappear down the hallway before getting up herself and head to the lowest level of the base.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Grab that laptop and take a seat." He is sitting at a large desk with his eyes glued on a computer. Scraps of paper are all over the place. Plasma gun close at hand, obviously. No one's ever seen him without it. He's just back from the last mission and is already at work.

His combat jacket and shirt lie in a pile on the floor, and he's wearing only a black undershirt. Black bruises and old scars draw an oddly harmonious pattern on the lean muscles of his shoulders. It is actually pretty warm in the server room, she notices.

"Yeah, someone need to fix the cooling in this room or our system's gonna fry..." he comments as she takes off her jacket and hangs it on the back of the chair. "It's this encrypted code," he shows her the screen of his laptop. "Can't seem to make any sense of it. I hear you've got a knack for cryptography."

"I thought Losenko was your code cracker..."

"That's right. _Was._.. We encountered a lot of resistance to obtain this." A moment of silence falls between the two. "I'm pretty good myself, but I need help if we want to find out what's so important about this message before Skynet knows we have it."

She considers whether or not to feel disappointed by his entirely professional reason for calling her here, and immediately dismisses the thought. She looks at the unintelligible strings of letters and numbers, and positions her workstation in front of his, mentally preparing for a long night - for entirely different reasons than what she first hoped).

The hours pass by, the clicks on the keyboards are the only sound in the room, occasionally interrupted by a muttered curse. He takes a short break to make more coffee. He sets one mug next to her computer and places an encouraging hand on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

There hasn't been the time to figure out what bothers him so much about this girl. It is more than just the looks. Unlike with Cameron, he feels compelled to protect her and at the same time he can hardly stand being in the same room. A black, dreadful feeling of guilt assaults him whenever she's near. With so much to do he's been avoiding her for the better part of the week, and managed to push the thought aside. He'll have to see through this situation soon. He can't continue to hide away from someone who has done nothing wrong, save from absolutely identical to Cameron. Or Cameron to her... a beep from his computer drags his attention back to the task at hand.

Even though he is a fighter – and a fierce one at that – he still feels more comfortable when it comes to hacking. Not that he minds the action, of course, but if he were to choose between describing himself as a commando or a nerd, he'd probably opt for the latter. Which isn't even too odd, considering the kind of enemy they are fighting.

The night leaves way to a pale, cold morning when the cyber-battle in the server room is over. And once again, John Connor is victorious. Drained, but victorious.

"What do you think it is?" She is the first to break the silence.

He studies the outcome of their efforts for a moment. It's mostly communication logs about some new weapon Skynet is building not far from San Francisco. He has quite a suspect on what this might be, but he has to be sure. He needs to now its exact location before he can be certain that they are talking about the TDE.

"I don't know," he lies. "But we'll find out before they can use it against us." You can't just go around claiming that the enemy has a time machine without proof. He'll send out another team, gather the missing info, organize an attack. But before that, he needs rest.

He leans heavily into his chair closing his sore eyes. He is tired beyond words, can't even think straight anymore. He remembers how on nights like this, Cameron would come over and rub his shoulders. He can almost feel her hands caressing his neck. Her scent. Her lips on his cheek. He turns to kiss her properly –

His eyes shoot open. "Allison! Wha– what are you doing?!"

She backs away, confused. "I thought..."

"What were you thinking?!" He barks and immediately regrets it. God, he's tired. "Look, sorry. Why?"

"I like you... And I thought you liked me... perhaps?"

"No. I mean. Yes. It's complicated."

"You can't continue mourning forever..."

"Who told you that?"

"No one..."

"Derek..." he's starting to get pissed.

"It's no secret, everybody around base knows it," she adds quickly, not wanting to get her superior officer in trouble. "Please, it's not his fault. He cares about you. We all do..."

"I'm not mourning. Just waiting. She went missing in action. Not dead." If this were any other case, to wait more than a few weeks for a MIA to be found alive would be plain delusional. But it takes more than a bomb and a ton of collapsed rock to destroy a terminator. At least, that's what he needs to believe. "Allison. I like you. A lot, really, more than I should, but not in the way you'd want me to," he says it to reassure himself more than to convince her. But it's getting terribly hard to look at this flesh and blood version of Cameron longing for him and pretend he doesn't feel anything.

"It's doesn't seem like it..." she nods at the evidence between his legs.

"That isn't fair," he protests, annoyed at his own body's betrayal. "Please, Allison, I can't. We're both very tired. At least I am. And there's still a lot to do. Why don't you go and take some rest...?" The look of disappointment on her face breaks his heart, but what else is he supposed to do?

"Right... goodnight, Sir."

"Goodnight, Allison."

He hadn't expected this... _Allison_... He isn't sure about what he feels – or should be feeling. In a way he can't help being slightly angry at Cameron. Something like ' _Hey John, in the future you're going to meet a human version of me_ ' would have been nice. In all those years together she really should have mentioned this. She really should have mentioned that her body – a body he loved with all his heart – actually belonged to someone else. He could have guessed, probably.

After all, Cameron was originally designed to be an infiltrator... Christ... it's more like he _didn't_ want to guess... Her beautiful face was - is - that of a human girl... a soon-to-be-dead human girl.

In his heart, John begins to understand. The more he thinks about it, the clearer the answer becomes. Cameron, the terminator who will become _his_ Cameron, the _one_ Cameron he is so desperate to see again, the one he'd give anything to have back, that Cameron is also the cold executioner of smart, brave, innocent Allison.

He feels sick.


	4. De Libero Arbitrio

**De Libero Arbitrio**

" _F_ _or there was sorrow then too, and gathering dark, but great valour,_

 _and great deeds that were not wholly in vain."_

* * *

December 26th 2026

She watches the convoy file through the main gate. The guards there wave a grim goodbye before locking the steel door behind them. Non all of them will be coming back... but word is that the war is going to be over soon. She follows the trucks with her eyes for as far as she can see them from the roof terrace, until they are tiny black dots disappearing behind a shapeless grey hill.

She really needs to talk to Connor. She finds him in the Command Centre.

"May a have a word with you, Sir?" He pretends he hasn't heard.

"Sir. Sir, please..." He carries on ignoring her.

"Just a minute, Sir." Still no reply, so she decides to just ask away.

"Why won't you just let me join the others?" She follows him as he enters Tactical. "Why can't I fight like everybody else!?"

"Not now, Corporal, I'm busy."

"You won't let me join my team, yet you have no real task here for me and you clearly don't want me around either. I think you owe me some explanation..."

He stops abruptly and she almost bumps into him.

" _I owe you_ , corporal?"

She stares at him red with embarrassment, immediately regretting her very poor choice of words.

"I'm sorry, Sir, I didn't mean to..."

"You go. You die, Allison."

 _Everybody dies_ , she rationalizes. Three out of ten never come back. And yet, one thing is to deal with the odds of war... but General Connor's words sound so much more like a death sentence. Like certainty. He keeps his gaze fixed on her, the light in his eyes is distant, cold, and yet so heartbreakingly sad. For a moment, she'd swear the person in front of her isn't even human.

An awkward silence has fallen onto Tactical and now everybody is more or less openly staring at them.

"In my office," he concedes before striding into his room, swiftly followed by a slightly shaken yet no less determined Allison Young.

"It's not just statistics, isn't it?" She closes the door behind them as he sits behind his desk. "You know things. What they say about you... that you know the future..."

He sighs heavily but doesn't reply.

"How do you know all this? How can you possibly know what is going to happen?"

"You wouldn't believe it," he chuckles, but there is no mirth in his eyes. "And even if you did, you'd wish you never asked."

"Try me," She finds there is really nothing funny or laughable about the situation. "It's my life after all. Don't I have a right to choose?" As the words leave her throat, she feels the sudden weight of fate falling on her shoulders.

"Choice is overrated," he snaps bitterly. "Freedom of choice is nothing but an illusion caused by the blissful ignorance of the future." Mrs Weaver would be so proud of him now.

She just gives him a stern look in reply.

For some reason he always refused to think that Cameron was the copy of a real human being. Or at least, most hypocritically, the thought that her looks belonged to some unknown casualty somehow made it a less atrocious crime. But he should have known that it made no sense. Why would Skynet send in a nondescript soldier as an infiltrator to kill Connor? Oh no, Skynet would want to get as close as possible to the target. A high ranking officer. A friend. A lover.

There he has it. Finally, and definitely too late, he gets it. Everyone now knows that he is keeping her from harm, and sure enough Skynet is already well aware of this odd behaviour. Whatever does, did or didn't do, whatever he says or refuses to say, whatever happened or is going to happen may be the very prompt to the events that will lead to her death... and really, there is nothing funny about it, but he can't help laughing at the thought.

The discovery of the Time Displacing Equipment has unleashed an inevitable series of events that have already happened and will happen again, regardless of his resistance. He will be responsible of his father's death, of Derek's death, and – soon enough – of Allison's as well.

And the ugliest part of all, what makes him disgusted at himself, is that he would still choose Cameron over Allison. That he'd d choose metal over flesh for his own selfishness. And it just isn't fair. Somewhere in his heart he needs to believe that this event isn't fixed, that this one – just this once – may be evitable. That he could save both.

"The thing is..." he finally breaks the silence but he's more talking to himself than to the woman in the room. "The moment you know what will happen you no longer have a choice. Do you understand this?"

She nods.

"Are you afraid?"

She nods again. "Nonetheless, I need to know."

"I can respect that... I did the same."

She sits in front of his desk and he tells her everything. That she will die and how. That a machine will take her place and try to assassinate him and fail. That this cyborg will become his most reliable asset, his best friend and so much more. That she will save his life countless times and guide him through the worst, prepare him for the war. That in the end, this cyborg who murdered her, will sacrifice herself to protect him, to give him and the resistance a chance at winning.

She just stares. Unable to even think. She refuses to believe a single word, yet she knows every word is true.

"I'm so sorry, Allison... But, you know, there is always a chance that none of this will happen. That time will unfold differently now, and that's why I'm not letting you go with your team..." Everybody knows that everybody dies, and no one knows it better than John Connor. And yes, her death may be inevitable, but he be damned if he won't try to prevent it.

A knock on the door breaks the dreadful silence of his office. "Sir, we intercepted a message concerning the shipment of equipment consistent with their new weapon," a wide grin spreads on Lt. Barnes as he delivers the news. "They're ours now."

"Have Reese and his team ready to leave in thirty minutes. And get Price and Bishop for the explosives," Connor orders.

"What about hacking...?" the lieutenant shoots a hesitant glance in Allison's direction.

"I'll be coming with you," the leader of the resistance says before she can volunteer.

Allison and Barns exchange looks. The other man opens his mouth to reply, but shuts it back close. There is no point in arguing with John Connor about him joining in an extremely dangerous mission.

She leaves the office without saying a word and a moment later he starts gearing up for the upcoming assault.

* * *

As he is finishing to check his equipment, a civilian nurse rushes over to him with a note in her hands. ' _Urgent. Sector 02, level -1'_.

"We're leaving in ten minutes. What is it?" He meets her outside the generator room, where part of the ceiling collapsed blocking the access to the rest of the corridor. She is sitting on a pile of bricks, playing with her hair.

"Assuming you're not batshit crazy – respectfully speaking, Sir – and everything you told me is true..."

"Allison, I don't have time for this.

"..the time travel, my death... well if all that shit is true, this mission is too important. _You_ are too important. Even my cyborg copy seemed to understand it."

"We already talked about it," he turns to leave but she springs up, taking hold of his arm.

No one really knows John Connor, and now she realizes, she certainly never will. She doesn't know what it means to be him, although maybe she's starting to understand. The troops claim he isn't human, that he's an amazing strategist with a heart of stone... They couldn't be more wrong. He himself alone bears such knowledge, the weight of so many lives, the undeserved guilt of so many losses. He cares. He cares so much about each and every life – and not just human lives.

"You say knowledge of the future takes away our freedom of choice. I disagree. I choose to save humanity, to save you."

She can understand why those who have seen him for who he is are willing to die for him. She can understand why they love him regardless.

"How many of us are given the chance to actually make a difference? I'm not eager to die, but if you think about it, it's not a bad way to go. After all, in the great scheme of all things, my death will be more meaningful than most. It's not much, but it's an encouraging thought."

"Please don't..."

"It's okay. I choose to."

"Allison, please..."

She places a hand on his cheek, caressing him gently. She plants a deep soft kiss on his lips, he releases the grip on her wrist to pull her closer and... "Goodbye, John." The brick hits him hard on the head. The last thing he knows before blacking out is the taste of her kiss and the sound of booted steps running away.

After being dismissed from the infirmary, John Connor learns what he already knew. Allison Young is MIA, taken by the enemy and presumed dead. Again, the weight of time crushes his pathetic efforts at cheating. Again, he loses his battle against inevitable events.

 _No fate_. Sarah couldn't be more wrong. _No choice_ , is a much more appropriate motto.

The older he gets, the more he fears that his humanity, his very soul will be the price to pay to put an end to the war. And he wonders why, with so many worthier people, did the burden of leadership had to fall upon him.

Back in his quarters someone left an old tattered book on his cot. There's a pen keeping the mark between the pages. He opens it to find a few underlined words.

" _I wish it need not have happened in my time," said Frodo._

 _"So do I," said Gandalf, "and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."_

His needs to sit. And for the first time in eleven years he cries.


	5. We all fall down

_**We all fall down**_

 _Feb 12_ _th_ _2027._

The cyborg chained deep into the labs of the TDE certainly is the same one that will one day will become the artificial girl that he knows... but _his_ Cameron is still ages away. This Cameron is too 'early' in her timeline to even know who Cameron is.

She arrived at Serrano Point early in the morning of the 5th of February 2027, disguised as Allison Young. She was wearing a tattered Resistance uniform. Her long brown hair, wet and greasy, were tied in a low ponytail. Her perfect face was stained with mud and old bruises. But it was her. There could be no mistake.

Understandably enough, the moment he decided to spare the terminator and attempt at reprogramming it, everybody at Serrano Point decided he finally lost it. High ranking officers and soldiers alike have been repeating that ' _it's dangerous, definitely too dangerous to keep one alive_ '.

After Allison Young went MIA, the most imaginative gossip about the two of them spread around the base. Less than two weeks later they lost all contact with Derek and everyone now thinks he is dead. In both cases, rumours are wrong. He never felt anything but respect and guilt towards the girl, and he knows Derek has to be alive somewhere because he'd seen him die in an entirely different world. He'll be back.

For some reason, these days everyone seems fine at the thought that he might be going through a nervous breakdown. Some are even openly relieved at the ' _first sign of humanity_ ' in their leader. He's heard someone say things like _'You don't just loose two people you love and carry on as nothing happened_.' The men are somewhat glad to learn that even Connor has a breaking point. And now they think that the last straw was a terminator with the face of his lover - and boy, they couldn't be more wrong, but it'd be pretty damn hard to explain that, if anything, it was the other way 'round. Despite their best intentions, their concern over his wellbeing is getting in the way of his work to the point he decided he'd just move his HQ again to the newly conquered TDE Facility and leave Serrano Point to his second in command, Lt.-General Perry.

In many ways, Perry is the most open minded officer of his entourage, and the only one who doesn't oppose the idea of reprogramming the terminators. It was also Perry who convinced him to electrify the surgical slab the terminator would be chained to ' _in case it does what it is designed to do_.' Which, he concedes, is actually pretty reasonable.

He sits inside the laboratory where he confined himself. His head resting against the steel door, dozing in and out of consciousness. He looks at the massive sphere at the centre of the huge hall on the other side of the lab window. Skynet's TDE. The peak of the Enemy's technology. The focal point of his existence. The very reason he exists at all. It's all dark and silent now. When he first saw it in action... it really was God at work. Or the Devil, more likely. Blinding light and thunder. As the fabric of the universe itself was torn apart he could feel it, actually feel history writing and rewriting itself. He travelled a couple of times when he was young, but this was an entirely different experience. White pain. More pain than he ever thought he could possibly endure. Every cell in his body was burning, a temporal paradox setting his insides on fire. And in the fraction of a second it was over, the light and the thunder were gone, and so was Kyle Reese.

His heart cringes at the thought... his father died before he was born, but he was alive and well no longer than three weeks ago. Is he any better than Skynet? Sacrificing a loyal friend, a good man, tricking him into obsessing over Sarah Connor so that he would volunteer to his doom? so that he himself could live?

The gossips are wrong again. There is nothing human in John Connor... Or maybe, the last human part of him is lying unconscious on the electrified dissection slab in his lab. And it's not looking too much on the humanity side at the moment. He is tired. He remembers all too well the last time Cameron tried to murder him when he was a teen... And he'd rather not go through that again.

He has a considerable advantage now, though. In the long years together, she taught him everything he needs to know about her artificial brain, every neural pathway, every security access. She taught him everything so that he would fix her properly when time came.

He walks over her unconscious form and resumes working. His hands move with slow, precise certainty into her head and over the keyboard, always careful not to trigger one of the many safety locks placed there by the Enemy. He surprises himself admiring Skynet's unparalleled skill in developing other artificial intelligence. Too skilful, actually. To the point that its own creations are turning against it. How ironic, and how very appropriate.

He enters the last few strings of code and disconnects her CPU from his own computer. He reminds himself to keep at a safety distance from her – and within reach of the electrocuting device – once it's done. Carefully, almost religiously, he places her "brain" back into her titanium skull and waits the longest 120 seconds of his life.

She opens her eyes. She blinks a couple of times before trying to move. She is restrained. She turns her head and finally sees him.

"State your designation and your mission."

"Infiltrator TOK715, my mission is to assassin- wait. Negative. Mission updated. My mission is to serve the Resistance against Skynet and to protect John Connor. You are John Connor."

"Yes, very good. Nice to meet you, TOK715," he smiles and takes his chair closer to the cyborg. "Not that I mind your designation number, but maybe it would be easier for me and for the other humans if you had a human name..? Would you like to choose a name?"

"Yes."

"What name would you like?"

"John Connor."

"I'm afraid that's already mine. It would be very confusing... you should choose a different one."

"I understand," she ponders for a second. "Cameron."

That is the name he's always known by, yet he can't help being slightly surprised. "Why Cameron?"

"I ran through my database of known resistance members. Cameron is the less recurrent name among active resistance soldiers. This should cause less confusion, if I understood the principle correctly."

"Yes, yes you did. And you chose a beautiful name."

"Why am I restrained?"

"Because you might still represent a menace."

"I see. That is a reasonable choice. But why didn't you terminate me instead?"

"It would have been safer, you are correct..."

"However you chose not to. Why?"

"Because, Cameron, I have faith in you."

* * *

 _November 5_ _th_ _, 2027_

Nine months have passed since Cameron's activation, and now he is sitting once again in his old office at Serrano Point, nervously watching the clock. Another accident with an unsuccessfully reprogrammed T888, the fourth since the beginning of the Refitting Protocol. Seven deaths make it the worst accident so far, providing a strong argument to those who oppose the use of cyborgs. He wasn't happy to leave the TDE – still isn't – but at least Cameron's quick intervention prevented the number of casualties from rising even higher. Then again, had they remained guarding the device, maybe (or maybe not) they could have stopped the Enemy from sending back an "unknown number of hostiles." He wonders if Cromartie was one of them. He hopes this is going to be Skynet's final attempt at retaking its time machine. The Enemy successfully managed to infiltrate the base three times already. To be fair, nothing could stop it from happening. He was there when they arrived in the past, when they came to murder him and the future of the Resistance, it was meant to happen.

Never the less, the acceptance of temporal determinism doesn't help making it a good day.

They arrived at the nuclear plant only two days before for an entirely different reason. A faction of Machine Rebels has opened a new front against Skynet and finally, after months of failed attempts, on November 2nd they agreed on an encounter, and he was here to personally instruct the commanding officer of the USS Jimmy Carter on his new orders. The original mission of the nuclear submarine was to head to Perth, but he needs it to retrieve the Rebels' delegate in the middle of the Pacific so that they can begin their negotiations. No one should now about it, especially not the human members of the crew. Following the recent events, secrecy is all the more important.

In his opinion, but he never voiced it out loud, these cases of reprogrammed terminators gone rogue are mostly the humans' fault. Sloppy work, distractions, small mistakes. Machines don't go crazy if you do everything right. It's not their fault if they go on a rampage because some programmer forgot a line of code here, or pulled the wrong wire there. He discovers himself more and more inclined towards their artificial comrades, and finds his fellow humans' attitude against the synthetics all the more insufferable. His thoughts immediately go to Catherine Weaver and nothing lifts his spirits like the prospect of having her back in the game.

He taps his fingers on the metal desk.

There's a knock on the door. Without waiting for a reply, the man on the other side steps in his office. John offers his old friend a seat and the other smiles politely. After the formal greetings, they just sit in awkward silence for a few long moments. It's the first time feels uneasy around his uncle; the first time he doesn't really know how to talk to him. He guesses it's guilt. For not even trying to rescue him. For never visiting during his recovery. According to the medical reports he was tortured, most likely poisoned, and suffered from a severe form of post traumatic amnesia. For some form of self-denial, he just stuck to the knowledge that he'd be fine and never bothered to prevent whatever horror was inflicted on him. And now Derek's changed, wounded, and he is going to serve him the final blow.

But he's glad to see him nonetheless. He just wishes it were under different circumstances, that they would have more time together. He knew that this was going to happen, but deep inside he hoped this moment could be postponed for another year, maybe more. It's too soon to lose him again.

"We need to talk." Connor is the first to break the silence.

"Yes." The other stares right back at him with a flood of unspoken accusations. "Where do you want to start? With the fact that it's the first time I manage to talk to you in moths? With my brother's disappearance after he left on a mission nobody seems to know anything about? With the rogue T888 that killed my friends this morning?" John opens his mouth to say something but the other continues. "Or, you know what, let's talk about that cyborg bitch that follows you around 24/7?"

"What's your problem with Cameron?" He really doesn't like the way he talks about her, but he absolutely needs to keep his cool. "She saved your life just earlier today. You'd be dead if it weren't for her _._ "

"You really don't understand, do you? How can you keep that thing around? How, with what it did to Allison?!"

"Cameron's only guilt is to look like her," he defends her, but he doesn't truly believe it himself. "Allison understood what she was doing."

"Allison was little more than a child!"

"Don't you dare! She understood more than you ever will! She sacrificed herself for something greater that her life -"

"No, John. Whatever she did, she did it for you. She died for you, we all die for you! And you replace us with metal!"

"You have no right to say this. I've lost to Skynet more than any of you will ever know!"

"Is that what you tell yourself after fucking your metal bitch?"

That's it. So much for keeping his cool. John throws himself against Derek landing a first punch right on his nose, and a second, and a third. But before he can hit again, the other man knees him hard in the stomach and punches him back. No reminder of rank or discipline can stop them now. Connor tackles his uncle, throwing them both on the concrete floor. Reese is quick to react and uses their momentum to send John flying against the table behind them, the old boards bursting under his weight.

Derek pulls himself up on wobbling legs and walks over John's very still form.

He isn't moving. Shit. Is he even breathing? "John...?" He takes a step closer.

Right then, John swings his legs in a swift movement tripping him over and immediately locking his neck in a strangling hold. "Will you just calm down and talk, now?" John hisses.

He growls as he releases Derek from his grip and sits up, his back against the overturned table.

His uncle remains lying on the floor, inhaling and exhaling deeply.

A group of soldiers rushes into the office, weapons at hand. "What happened? - General, Lieutenant, are you injured? - We heard a lot of commotion in here –"

"We're fine," one of the men helps the General to his feet as another aids the First Lieutenant.

"John Connor, you are bleeding," the female cyborg comes running into the room, heading straight to her mentor. "Who did this?" She quickly scans the room for signs of effraction then stares intently at both men's scorched knuckles, bleeding noses and split lips.

"There's nothing to worry about. We're fine. We were..."

"Sparring."

"Yes. Boxing. Got a bit carried away." The surrounding people give them a typical _I-don't-buy-it-but-who-cares_ look. "Sorry for the mess. We'll clean it up." The soldiers file out, muttering quietly to one another, careful not to cross their officers' eyes.

"Do you require my assistance in restoring the original status of the office?"

"No. No, Cameron, it's all right. We'll manage. Go back to your duties."

"Yes, John Connor." She looks again at Reese before leaving them alone.

"You pack one hell of a punch..."

"You, too..." he rubs his throbbing jaw. "Do you still trust me, Derek?"

"Yes. Of course, I trust you." He answeres with no hesitation. "Do you?"

"Always."

He ponders for a moment over the right words to say. "Derek, I didn't call you here to argue about reprogrammed terminators... nor to experience your boxing skills." The other smirks. "I need you to go on a special mission. A _very_ _special_ mission."

"Does it have to do with Kyle?" He asks out of the blue.

"In a way..." he hesitates. "...yes."

"John... What happened to my brother...? I understand secrecy, but at least you owe me this..."

"I sent him back."

"Back where?"

"More like when. I sent him back to 1983(*see notes)"

"You're shitting me."

"Unfortunately not. Skynet has developed a terrible new weapon that allows to travel back in time. They sent a T800 to assassinate my mother before I was born. Your brother volunteered to be sent after him to protect her." And unknowingly to conceive the future leader of the resistance and die immediately after. But Derek really doesn't need to hear that part. Besides, the more he tells it, the crazier this story sounds.

"Assuming I believe you – of which I am not sure – why would they do that?"

"Because – and here's the good news – we're winning this war. And according to Skynet, we're winning because of me."

"It doesn't look like we're winning..."

"It may not look like it, but we are." He can't tell him more than that. He can't tell him about the machine rebels. The Jimmy Carter will raise anchor in two weeks to retrieve their leader, and John prays, prays with all his heart that they'll succeed.

"Our forces have taken Skynet's TDE base, but an unknown number of terminators had already passed through before we could shut it down. We have control of the device, but we might not be able to hold it for long." He takes a deep breath. "I need you to travel back as well. Take a team of three volunteers." His heart breaks at the thought he will be losing him soon, this time for good.

"Does this thing really work? I mean, it sounds pretty crazy..."

"It sounds absurd. But I was there, Derek. I _know_ it worked." For a moment John fears that his uncle will ask him about the outcome of his mission. What would he tell him then?

"Will my brother be there? In 1983?"

"You're not going to 1983. The year is 2007. Those were the last known temporal coordinates of a considerable number of transfers." _Transfers_... nice euphemisms for terminators. He expects some sort of protest, more questions, but nothing.

"Okay. Let's do this. How much time do I have to prepare? What equipment will we need?"

"No equipment. Not even clothes. Only living tissue – or anything contained inside it – can pass. You'll go as soon as your team is ready to leave."

Derek is uncharacteristically quiet. He should say something, a few parting words, or a hug, even a handshake would be fine. They just stand there in silence, avoiding each other's gaze.

"It's a one-way trip, I get it," his friend speaks first. It's not a question, it's a statement. John finally looks at him in the eye, releasing a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Better sort out a few things then."

 _ **March 14**_ _ **th**_ _ **2001 (episode: today's the day, part 2)**_

"What do they think of me? In the future, what do people think?" A young John sits on the bed in Jesse Flores' apartment, looking at his uncle, opening and closing Cameron's pocket watch.

"Well," The older man leans against the dresser. "If you're asking if... people agree... with everything you do, of course not." "If you're asking if everybody loves you... Love's a lot to ask for. You can't do what you do and... expect everybody to agree - or to love you." He wonders if this is could be the day he changed. The day his friend lost faith in humanity to become its leader.

"And what is it that I do?"

"You lead." He looks at the young man and tries to see the ruthless General of the resistance behind his clean face.

"And they follow?"

"We follow. We rise or... fall on your shoulders. Humanity rises... or falls. But we're always watching."

"For me to make a mistake?"

"For you to be human."

* * *

Notes to Chapter 5

*Here the terminator timeline gets a bit confusing – even more than usual. According to Terminator 2: Judgement Day, John was born on Feb.28th 1985, thus placing the events of the first Terminator somewhere around May 1984. However, in TSCC John's 16th birthday is November 14th 2007, thus anticipating his conception date to circa April 1983. Being a TSCC based story, I decided to go with the 1983 timeline.

Once the story is over I will post a comprehensive chronology of all the events to clear any confusing points.


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